


Masks

by anaellefire



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blue - Freeform, F/M, Jotun!Loki, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaellefire/pseuds/anaellefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Read the poem of the same name by Shel Silverstein and was smacked in the face with inspiration.  My first TaserTricks oneshot.  I feel like it's a fluffy lemon.  E for a reason.  Jotun!Loki!!! 'Nuff said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! So, this takes place some time after Thor: The Dark World, but there are no spoilers. Wrote this just now, literally. It's not beta'd because A) It's 4:30am, and B) because ain't nobody got time for that rn. All typos are my own, feel free to point them out if you come across them (because I'm a grammar Nazi and it will kill me if you don't.)
> 
> Here's a sexy TaserTricks for you with some Jotun!Loki action! :D I seriously can't get enough of these two (More-so Loki/Tom).
> 
> (Help me, I have a problem)  
> ~Anaelle

_Masks_

_She had blue skin,_

_And so did he._

_He kept it hid_

_And so did she._

_They searched for blue_

_Their whole life through,_

_Then passed right by—_

_And never knew._

_-Shel Silverstein._

 

“Goddammit, Loki! Don’t you get it?” She yelled in frustration as she entered her apartment, his hard footfalls echoed behind her on the hardwood floor.  “How do you expect to ever be happy if you can’t accept yourself?!  You just hide behind your tricks and your lies and remain a broken soul over the things you have done, rejecting your very nature.  You aren’t the only one who has known suffering or has been wronged.”  She ripped her hat and bag from her person and threw them into some random corner of the living room.

                “How could I accept my true nature when my entire race is considered monsters to the rest of the Nine?  The very same creatures that left me to die?”  He stopped, his hands grinding into tight fists, the knuckles bleaching under his pale skin. 

                Darcy rounded at his last statement, her dark curls twirling to fall around her shoulders.  There was a look of pure rage in her bright blue eyes, meeting his gaze with nothing short of fury.  “You have no fucking idea how easy you’ve had it,” she grit out.  Despite the fact that she was dressed in her usual amount of excessive layers, he could tell her breaths were ragged and shallow.  All of her body language indicated that at any moment she was going to strike.  Yet, something about her demeanor, (vulnerability, maybe?) caused him to soften his disposition.

                 “Darcy?”  He quietly asked, taking a hesitant step forward to bridge the space between them.  She set her jaw, exhaled in a soft snort and shook her head as she looked down. 

                Her eyes snapped back to his, radiating a challenge.  “You aren’t the only one who was left to die.”  She wrenched her arms out of her coat with purpose, throwing the garment unceremoniously to the floor.  Next, came her scarf, then her overly large sweater.  As her hands crossed over her abdomen and reached for the hem of a soft cotton shirt, previously buried under all the layers, he tilted his head in confusion.  She began to walk backwards as the first portion of her stomach was revealed, then turned away to pull off the rest of the blouse over her head.  A hand struck the end table in anger at the far end of the room as she leant over it. 

                Loki inhaled sharply. Despite tall boots, snug jeans, and a lacy bra, she laid herself bare before him.  Darcy’s entire back was covered in a beautiful blue tattoo, but beneath the breathtaking lace pattern was withered, scarred skin.  Slowly, he made his way over to her.

                “I was nine when my house caught on fire.  It killed my parents and nearly killed me. I received second degree burns to over twenty-five percent of my body.”  She paused and let out a ragged breath.  “I died twice: once after the firefighters got me out of the house, and again at the hospital.  After spending over a year in a burn unit, I was discharged into the care of the state, but I was obviously disfigured and no one wanted me.  I grew up knowing that I _was_ the monster.”

                He was close enough behind her to feel the heat radiating from her body.  Tentatively, he reached a cool hand towards her exposed flesh.  She let out a quiet moan on contact, her skin hot to his touch.  “If I may inquire, why blue?”

                Darcy turned around to face him, a small smirk on her lips, leaving her hands to rest on the table behind her.  Loki’s gaze trailed from her eyes, down the long column of her neck, resting on her chest.  The blue lace covered over mottled skin there, as well as the tops of her breasts, and swept around her sides and hip bones to disappear beneath the waist of her pants.  He could not help but notice that every breath she took caused her chest to strain against the material of the undergarment.  “Blue makes me think of ice,” she began, and his eyes respectfully came back up to meet hers, noticing the fire in her gaze.  “It soothes the burn.”

                In an instant, one of her hands was buried in his hair, the other latched onto the nape of his neck, and her lips were crushed against his in a demanding kiss.  Once he got over the initial shock, he participated in earnest.  Her hands began to trail all over him, and her tongue brushed against his bottom lip, seeking entry.  He would deny her nothing and they moaned in unison at the slick contact.   She pulled him closer, to stand in the space between her legs, yanking off his vambraces and pulling his long leather coat off his shoulders.  His lips moved to the juncture of her neck and jawline, and he found her nails digging into his scalp once again.  With her hands occupied, he began to divest himself of the rest of his armor.  When he was down to a soft green tunic and trousers, his hands reached for her again. 

                Loki slipped one hand around her back, and slid the other from her neck, down her breasts, over her taught abdomen and finally snaked it around her ribs.  He began to kiss her mouth again and unclasp her bra.  He pushed further into her, forcing her move on top of the small table and knocking picture frames and other sentimental trinkets off in her wake.  He leaned back to look at the skin he just bared, her breasts weighed heavy on her chest, and they spilled over his hands when he cupped them.  Darcy let out a moan and hauled him back down to her by slipping her hands into the waist of his pants and pulling.  His breath hitched when her fingers came so close to touching sensitive skin.  She slipped her hands under his tunic and slid it higher until he pulled it free from his body.  Her hands only ran over the hard planes of his body for a moment before she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him against her, they cried out at the contact of naked flesh to naked flesh and his hard cock between her thighs.  Darcy began to arch her back and shamelessly rut against him.  He was going to go mad from the friction.  In one swift movement, he lifted her by the backs of her thighs and entered her bedroom.

                He dropped her onto the bed in fervor, hands immediately moving to unzip and remove her boots.  When that task was finished, his graceful fingers worked to unfasten her jeans, ripping them and her panties down when he was finished.  For the love of Yggdrasil, she was bare.  He stood, undressing his last bit of clothes and greedily watched as her hands stroked along her body, touching herself in wanton abandon for him, a low growl resonated from his throat. 

                The bedframe creaked under his weight as he crawled towards her.  One hand grabbed the wrist of the hand she was pleasuring herself with, while the other wrapped around her thigh, yanking her body closer.  His cool hands spread her thighs wide and caressed down their lengths, stopping just shy of her core, gripping her tight in possession.   He met her gaze as he sent a cool breath of air to her sex, goose bumps raced across her skin and she arched her back with a cry.  Her eyes were locked on his in a pained expression; her pert nipples stuck out in an arousing manner, given his point of view; and her luscious lower lip was straining under her teeth.

                “Loki, please,” she begged, hands grasping tightly to the sheet beneath her.

                With a sinister smile, he decided that he very much liked the way his name spilled from her lips, and thus he rewarded her.  His hands were quick to spread her sex and his tongue was eager to taste the ambrosia found within.  By the Nine, if this really wasn’t the drink of the gods… A feral moan erupted from her throat followed by many exclamations of “Oh god!”  Yes, indeed.  He was relentless in his assault, sliding his cool tongue the length of her, then paying special attention to the little ball of nerve endings at the top.  “Fuck! I’m so close!  I just need a little more—“ Darcy beautifully choked on her words when he shoved two long fingers into her, curling them back perfectly to hit that wondrous hidden spot.  He pumped them in and out of her in time with her spasming inner muscles.  She let out a mixture of curse words, cries and his name.  The pleasure must have been too much, because she desperately tried to scramble away from his over stimulating mouth.  He laughed at her attempt and anchored her to him with a firm grasp around her thigh.  Realization that she was trapped must have sunk in because she was reduced to exhausted whimpers, pulling at his hair, and constantly convulsing around him.

                When she finally came down from her high, he withdrew his fingers from her, licked them clean, and began to place sensuous kisses around her thighs.  Her hands weakly threaded through his hair, her body still shuddering every now and again.  “Just this once,” she began breathlessly, “let me see the real you?”  Loki’s eyes pleaded with her to not request this of him, and despite the warmth of her thigh at his cheek, a small shiver racked his body.  “You’re not a monster,” she said, reaching down to cup his face.  “Please, Loki… Let me show you.”  Loki brought a hand to cover hers, and let out a long breath as he placed a delicate kiss in her palm. 

                He made slow work up her body, letting his hands guide him, leaving kisses here and there.  She was absolutely beautiful in the dim light.  When he was finally perched above her holding his weight on his elbows, he met her lips in a lingering kiss, and rested his forehead against hers.  Her hands gently held his neck, thumbs stroking at the skin beneath her fingertips.  She nodded to reassure him, and nervously, he closed his eyes and let his magic fade.  He felt the chill in the air creep over his body as he transformed, a tingling sensation rushing over him as his royal markings rose from his skin. 

“Loki,” her touch was hot as she caressed the curve of his ear.  Slowly, he opened his eyes to her, only to squeeze them shut tight when she let out a small gasp.  He tried to move off of her then, she was disgusted with his Jotun form, he was sure of it.  He refused to stick around and frighten her further.  However, he was surprised when he was unable to move, her thighs gripping him tight, and her arms pulling him back.  “Loki, look at me?  Please?”  she whispered.  With a ragged breath, looked down at her; she had tears threatening to spill over her lashes and her face was in a sad expression.  She began to slowly shake her head at him.  “You’re not a monster.”  Darcy leaned to tenderly meet her lips with his.  “You’re not a monster,” she repeated.

Darcy continued to distract him with passionate kisses; he hardly noticed that she was gently guiding him back down to her, aligning their sexes in the process.  At some point, his body became hyperaware at the breath of a distance between them, his cock straining to find release buried inside her.  “Darcy, are you sure?”  He asked her weakly.  Loki, the powerful God of Mischief and Lies, was reduced to seemingly a virgin and nervous above her.  His royal arrogance had dissolved; he had never asked for permission to bed a woman before; he took willing participants as was his right on the rare occasion when one actually came to his bed.

“Loki, please… I need you.”  It was the only reply he wanted.

Slowly, he slipped into her.  They moaned in unison at the first sensation of penetration.  Still, he slid deeper, stretching her, filling her.  Darcy lifted her hips to better accommodate his size and soon he was buried to the hilt.  Gods, if this woman was not Valhalla incarnate…  The poor mortal choked a moan when he began to move.  He certainly understood the sentiment; the feeling of her beneath him, and around his cock, left him short of breath.

He eventually ground out a rhythm, feeling bereft every time he retreated from her, and whole again once they were fully joined.  He had never made love to anyone before, but Darcy was a woman who deserved so much more than a quick rutting with a prince, as were his other sexual encounters.  She deserved tenderness, passion, to be cherished.  Well, all of that was at least necessary for their first time and he would show her as much, if not more.  Hopefully, there would be another time for him to express his more feral needs.

He made sure to caress her burned skin, soothing her insecurities the way she had smoothed away his.  He moaned and her named often spilled from his lips; he whispered beautiful words against her mouth and sighed into her hair.  He was driving her mad, he could tell; her claws scratching over the markings on his back nearly rendered him completely primal, growling at the sensation that shivered all over his body when she touched them; but, he kept their tempo steady, reveling in the slow burn of their pleasure together.  Her gaze barely left his, her eyes only closing in surrender to bliss.  He grasped her hands in his and pushed them above her head, lowering himself further on top of her.  “Loki,” she cried his name, he could see her eyes begin to gloss over, and he was relentless.  She was coming, and she began to scream until the pitch was so high, she fell silent—inaudible in her pleasure.  The contractions of her muscles around him swept him out to a sea of euphoria; he sang her praises in the tongue of his people.  As he spilled himself inside her, Darcy climaxed harder, squeezing his hands for dear life. 

When they both resurfaced from the waves of pleasure, Darcy let out a long sigh.  “I am pretty sure that I saw a star-filled universe, and I also passed out for a moment.”  Loki chuckled as he lifted himself from her, hissing as he slipped free—she whined in disagreement of his movements.  He settled himself on his side next to her, and brushed a few sweat-soaked strands of hair back behind her ear.  He brought one of her hands to his chest, over his heart, lowering his head to kiss the appendage. 

“You are beautiful, Darcy Lewis of Midgard.”  He reached out to brush a tear off her cheek with his thumb.  “I am humbled by your courage, and feel that I am unworthy of such a strong woman; but you make me feel worthy as a man, as someone whom is on the verge of discovering he may not be a monster after all.”

* * *

 

Warm sunlight on his back brought him out of his slumber and the soft rise and fall of the being held tightly in front of him caused him to open his eyes—he had returned to his Asgardian form while sleeping.   Ah, the breathtaking Darcy Lewis.  He was content to watch her sleep; admiring the long lashes curling down to her cheeks,  the innocent countenance of sleep, and the glorious blue lace etched all over her skin. 

He chuckled and lightly kissed the back of her head as he reminisced about the night passed.  He could scarcely count the times they coupled, numerous in their encounters.  A quarter of an hour would pass in sleepy haze and then one would wake the other, ready for another round.  He had had her in so many ways; above him, on her side, her stomach, her knees…  He was starting to feel guilty, re-examining her body and noticing all the bruises left in their wake.  He laid a healing touch to a hand print visible at her hips.  Slowly, her hand came up and pulled his away.

“Darcy?” he asked.

“Don’t heal them.  They’re my badges of honor.”  Her voice was hoarse, a consequence of their nocturnal activities.  Sleepily, she rolled over to face him, a smile on her lips.  “Good morning, Loki.”  She gave him a happy kiss.  “You’re back to being you.”  She unashamedly appraised his form.

“My magic is instinctual.  I changed forms when we finally fell asleep.”

“Are you going to make me pick every time?”  Loki turned his head, not understanding her meaning.  “I think it might be hard for me to pick between seductive, bad boy Loki who knows how to get what he wants and unrestrained, passionate, yet vulnerable, Loki.”  She was rubbing her hands over his chest now.  And his own arousal was stirring, regardless of the wave of pheromones she was releasing. 

“What if you did not have to choose?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face.

“What are you saying?  There will only ever be one of you.”  She was suckling down his neck, and began to leave love bites on his chest, adding to his already marred skin.  He swiftly changed into his Jotun form, relishing now in the chill that emanated from his body—it truly was something she craved. 

“Mmmm…” she mumbled.  “You’re like a popsicle, and I just want to lick you all over.” She began to trace her tongue over his markings, sending a shudder through him.

“Am I not the God of Mischief?”  He asked and the bed dipped down on the far side.

Darcy stopped her ministrations and looked up at his face. “Wha--?” she began, but Loki started to stroke her breasts.  Another set of hands caressing her skin made her jump to face the intruder.

Asgardian Loki was lying next to her, a mischievous grin on his face.   “Why would I ever make you choose, when you can clearly have all of me at once, my greedy little mortal?”  His hand slipped over her body to cup her sex, teasing her with the knowledge of their expertise on her body. 

“Oh fuck—oh god,“ Darcy moaned as Jotun Loki sucked a nipple into his mouth.

“That’s right,” both gods replied in unison.  


End file.
